The Death of Childhood
by LadyDivine91
Summary: There's something Blaine wants to do on his honeymoon, something that will take his and Kurt's first sexual experience as husband's over the top ... but he can't bring himself to ask for it ... ... not from his husband. He can ask Kurt for anything. From the front desk. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


_**Notes:**_

 _ **I know I've been kinda focusing on the heavy lately, but I'm hoping this might make up for it xd Inspired by an interview with Jack Whitehall on The Graham Norton show and the Klaine Valentine's Challenge prompt 'Wouldn't It Be Nice', because this proves that being older isn't all it's cracked up to be :D**_

"We can't!"

"What do you mean we _can't_!?" Kurt argues. Blaine waves his hand to hush his husband so that their neighbors won't overhear, which earns him a glare from Kurt's steely eyes that could cut iron. "For the amount of money that we're spending to stay here for the week, I'll do the cha-cha naked on the veranda if I want! Go down to the breakfast buffet wasted every morning! Now just call the front desk and do it!"

"But I … I _can't_!"

" _Why_ can't you?"

"Well, wh-why can't _you_?" Blaine counters, childishly in his husband's opinion.

"Because it was _your_ suggestion in the first place!"

"But, it's just … it's just wrong, Kurt! How will we be able to face them when we go down to the dining room, or to the pool? They'll know it's us! They'll judge us!"

"They won't _judge_ us," Kurt scoffs. "We're _adults_. It's our _honeymoon_. We're allowed. They wouldn't offer it as an option if we weren't!"

"But, I … I just …"

Kurt watches his husband back away shaking his head, arms wrapping around his chest. He sighs. He has to get this evening back on track. It was going good up till a second ago. So good, in fact, that despite stopping the best blow job that Blaine has ever given him in his life before he was finished, he's still rock hard, even during this cockamamie argument. Kurt decides to play _that_ angle, get Blaine's mind back where it belongs – south of the equator.

"Aren't you the man who's responsible for _this_?" Kurt asks, dropping his towel and revealing the source of his current frustration.

Well, one of the sources.

"Y-yes?" Blaine admits, glancing down at his husband's hard-on, still glistening at the head with his own saliva.

"And weren't you the one who mentioned how _hot_ it would be to watch the new video by _Frat Boy Physicals_ while you had your mouth on me?" Kurt takes a step towards Blaine, herding him in the direction of the bed … and the phone.

"I … I did," Blaine says, licking his lips, because regardless of the argument that they're having, the thought of watching two built, sexy men fuck one another while he has his gorgeous husband's cock down his throat definitely makes his mouth water.

"Safe voyeurism," Kurt whispers as he guides his husband slowly to sit on the mattress, then climbs in his lap in a way that positions his erection against Blaine's chest. "That's what you call it. And it's been your biggest turn on since college."

"It … it has." Blaine clears his throat, fighting the urge to stare at the cock so close to his chin, trapped by his husband's seductive, prismatic eyes.

"So, wouldn't you want to indulge in that fantasy during your honeymoon? During your first sexual experience as husbands? Make it _magical_? I mean, that's why we're _here_ … isn't it?"

"Yes," Blaine answers quickly with a vigorous nod of his head. "Yes, I do."

"Well, then …" Kurt picks up the receiver and holds it out to Blaine just as his cock bobs against his chest. "Do it," he whispers, his lips puckering into a perfect 'o'. "Do it for you. Do it for _us_."

Without a word, Blaine takes the receiver and puts it to his ear. Kurt dials zero for the front desk, and the phone begins to ring.

Twice, and then someone answers.

"Hey, hey, hey! What can I do for you this evening?"

The change in Blaine's expression at the sound of that voice is instantaneous. His chin trembles. His cheeks go white. His lust-blown eyes open to the size of dinner plates. He looks like he's reliving his worst nightmare – on stage on opening night of the most important musical he'll ever perform, naked, fat, and puking his guts out. "I … I …"

"Do it," Kurt mouths. "Just do it."

"Hello?" the voice on the line asks with a cartoonish laugh. "Mr. and Mr. Ander-Hummel? Is anybody there?"

"Just a second!" Kurt sings into the receiver while simultaneously egging his husband on with his eyes.

"I … I can't!" Blaine cries, the receiver trembling in his grasp. "If it were anyone else, I could, but not _him_ , Kurt! I can't! I can't ask _him_ to do this!"

"Fine," Kurt relents, taking the receiver from his broken husband. The moment he has it, Blaine falls backward on the bed and covers his face with a pillow. There are just some battles that aren't worth fighting, and for the sake of their honeymoon – and Kurt's withering erection – he'll bite the bullet this time.

"H-hello?" Kurt stutters, because despite his tough talk, Blaine is right. Something about this feels wrong. Like a sin. And even though he knows he won't regret this decision in about thirty minutes, he feels part of his childhood die. "M-Mickey Mouse? I need you to activate the porn channels on our TV."


End file.
